


Come Life or Death

by WoundedSoul



Series: Maxwell Trevelyan's Thedas [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Death, Despair, Grief/Mourning, I Really Don't Like Solas, M/M, Revenge, Trespasser DLC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 06:33:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7673752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoundedSoul/pseuds/WoundedSoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian awaits his love's return from the Eluvian. He knows his Trevelyan will come striding through that mirror surface any moment, wide grin plastered on his face as his broadsword hangs easily from over his shoulder. He will run to him, hug him, love him. No longer caring if all see them in such a way. </p><p>Only, this isn't that kind of story. And the truth- well sometimes the truth hurts. Especially when you get one egg headed apostate involved. </p><p>Read the tags people. This isn't your Grandma's fanfiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Life or Death

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hancock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hancock/gifts).



No one told him at first.

Eyes shifted from his questioning gaze, people suddenly becoming busy with anything else as he slowly stepped towards the smooth surface of the Eluvian. He had seen it ripple, announcing the return of the man he loved most in Thedas. He would be alright, had to be alright. For Maker's sake, the man had walked through the Fade and lived to tell the tale!

But as the crowd parted and a gentle hand landed on his shoulder (Cullen's hand? Blackwall's?), he realized that luck couldn't save his love this time. 

His Inquisitor, his Trevelyan, almost appeared to sleep. But the absence of his chest rising and falling and the deathly pale look on his face told Dorian all he had ever feared had come to pass.

He fell to his knees with a thud, hands instinctively reaching for that muscled chest and chiseled jawline. His stubble scratched against Dorian's palm as it had done so often before, only this time those forest green eyes did not open and that soft smile would never again light his face. 

There was a twinge of magic in the air around his love. Old magic. Deep magic. And sadly, familiar magic. 

"Solas..." he growled out as his hand clinched against the Inquisitor's armour. Cold steel contrasting the raging inferno he felt inside. He had never trusted that shifty apostate, but Trevelyan saw the best in people. He always laughed off Dorian's accusations and kissed away his fears. 

But there would be no more laughter now. No demanding kisses in the quiet of the night as they lay together. No more-

"Sparkler." Varric softly called his name as the now Viscount squatted down next to him. He did not dare to reach out and touch Dorian, knowing he could offer the man no comfort in this darkest of times.

"I need to be alone," finally stated the hollowed eyed mage after several tense moments of silence. The rustling of people was the only response to his request, everyone obeying in his moment of grief. 

They hurt just as he hurt, hearts broken and eyes brimming with tears. The Inquisitor had been their leader, their savior, and most of all their friend. But none, not a person there, felt a rift shatter open inside themselves the way Dorian did. 

He leaned down to kiss those full lips one last time, a brief caress to bid his love farewell. Silent tears drifted down his cheeks before splattering to the forlorn stone beneath, their bitter comfort his only salvation. 

He was motionless for what seemed like an eternity, allowing his grief to flow freely as he clutched the hollow shell that was once his proud Trevelyan. But as often happens, pain turned to anger. Rage even. He cursed the whole world and all that inhabited it.

"I told you," he began as he glared down at the lifeless body. "I warned you so many times. Why wouldn't you listen to me? If only you would have listened!" He needed to say these things, to process his anguish aloud. If he didn't, then he would fall into the pit of deepest despair. He was pushing away the punishing thoughts that he didn't try hard enough, that if he would have stayed with the Inquisition instead of returning to Tevinter then he could have saved his love. 

"And now you have left me here- alone. Do you know what this will do to me? I hate you. I hate you beyond what words can say!" He beat his fists against that perfectly polished breastplate, a piece of metal that he knew so well. He cried out in anguish as he pushed away the love inside and held onto the pain, grasping onto it for dear life. 

He couldn't say goodbye. Couldn't say I love you. To admit such would cause it to be real. If he just denied it, just ignored it, then it would all just be a nightmare. His Trevelyan would laugh in that hearty way when they awoke and Dorian told him of his dream. Soothing his fears with those calloused palms as he cradled his lover tenderly.

But it was all too real, and Dorian finally admitted it as he squeezed his love’s hand one last time. 

“I love you,” he whispered as a lone tear fell. 

He rose to his feet, casting one last long look at his warrior before closing his eyes and tilting his head towards the heavens. He had one final promise to make, and he knew his love could hear him as he spoke his solemn vow. 

"Come life or death, you will always be mine. I will never forsake you, and I will never forget you."

The words drifted on the breeze, and with a heavy sigh Dorian turned away as his anger found a new purpose. 

Solas, that bastard apostate. Dorian would see that elf burn before this was all through. 

"For you-" he added as he touched the ring his Trevelyan had given him that fateful day on the balcony of Skyhold. The only physical symbol of their love left, and a constant reminder of what now must be done. "It is all for you."

**Author's Note:**

> Hancock, you beautiful woman. I love ya! This was inspired by her and my own angsty mood. You ma'am are a good (or possibly bad) influence on me. Getting me to write random drabbles in the middle of the night.  
> WritingIllusions, I know the Dread Wolf is your man and all, love. But seriously, I love to hate him.


End file.
